


A Little Talk Between Monsters

by AshflameTheWaffle



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Battle Ground spoilers, Character Death Mentions, Gen, Hoo boy here we go, I am taking a few liberties because it's my fanfic and I can do what I want, I'm Serious, M/M, brief- barely a sentence worth- mention of mafia activites, but for the relationship, like drugs gun selling human trafficking- the works, this takes place after Battle Ground- like a few days after it, you can see it as platonic or romantic I don't care- death to the author and what not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshflameTheWaffle/pseuds/AshflameTheWaffle
Summary: The fight has been fought, reconstruction begins, and a wizard- a monster- eating a burger from a familiar joint- sits on a roof by a lake watching a tiny island. What happens when a fellow monster comes to say hello?
Relationships: Harry Dresden & Johnny Marcone, Harry Dresden/Johnny Marcone, briefly mentioned Sigrun Gard/Nathan "Cujo" Hendricks
Comments: 35
Kudos: 78





	A Little Talk Between Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the result of me waking up at 1 am the day I read Battle Ground, after thinking about that one line M.M. said to Butcher about Hughie being his canary. God I'm gay as hell.

It was calm up here on the roof of one of the remaining tall buildings left. 

Just watching the waves of the lake roll, knowing the body of a kraken lay beneath, and a bunch of demonic and godly creatures lay under an island that I considered a home.

Peaceful.

More than I could say for the streets of Chicago down below- and behind- me. It was very noisy from the paramedics running around, the firefighters putting out the last of the blazes, construction workers getting the rubble out of the way to start building, and a whole city full of people staring fearfully at the void of my world they tried to avoid as it stares back- as it always has- at them.

I was wolfing down one of the burgers I had gotten from a Burger King food stand- weird considering everything, but hey, that was just my life- and that was when _he_ arrived with the tone of someone encountering an old friend from your childhood.

“Mr. Dresden?”

“waGFH-” I choked a bit on a bite of burger as I spun on my ass to see who it was, despite knowing who it was in the marrow of my bones, “MARCOnF?? I WAS _EAFTIN.”_

“Ah,” he had tilted his head to look the bag where my fries sat barely touched so far, as I coughed my bite down, “I had not seen. My apologies.”

I glared without any real heat at him. “Hell’s bells man. It’s only been a few days- I could’ve shot at you had I been in the moment!”

He gave me a look that was just on the cusp of long suffering. “You could’ve tried.”

“Not the point, scumbag,” I grumbled, waving my hand at him, “The real point I’m trying to get to is, what are you doing here? On this particular roof? To bug me??”

Marcone only continued giving me the same look, before he gently closed his eyes and relaxed a bit. “You do realize that it’s not safe even up here, correct?” he asked upon opening those old green dollar-billed eyes again.

I spocked a brow. “Is that a statement or a threat?”

“A little both as it were,” he replied genially.

“Annnnnd why would that be?” I asked again.

He stared again at me. “It’s one of my buildings.”

It was silent for a minute as I processed that.

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed.”

“You were going to practice.”

Silence for only a brief moment this time.

“You have keen eyes, Master Baggins.”

“Oh shut up,” I grumbled, watching his eyes crinkle a bit as he gained pleasure from my annoyance, “you don’t get to make those references.” The fact you know them at all annoys me. Doesn’t make me happy at all that someone I fight gets my jokes. Shut up.

He gave a nod in acknowledgement, and I’d bet you my bottom dollar there was a small smile on his lips- I saw it for that brief nanosecond, and it was there no matter how he denied it. Rolling my eyes, I spun back around so he wouldn’t see my own smile twitching upwards and hung my legs over the edge, and munched my burger. I heard him before I saw him as he walked over and sat next to me on the ledge of the building, criss-cross applesauce versus my own swinging legs. 

It was silent for a long time as I ate. I think he stole a couple of my fries but he was too quick for me to be sure. Nonetheless, he was silent with me, and I took in the stable energy he emitted and tried to build my own equilibrium again that he had thrown off when he arrived. 

I was sitting next to one of the biggest assholes I had ever had the displeasure of meeting, and I was calm and collected. That shouldn’t be how this worked. He was a scumbag- through and through. He dealt with the drugs, the murder, the illegal arms dealing, the human trafficking; the mob stuff. And after that reveal with Thorned Namshiel, who knows what stuff he’s been doing on the sidelines. I should be pissed and angry with him. I should utterly hate him with all my soul. But there was the kicker, I haven’t hated him for almost 13 years I had known him, since I had seen him standing outside a hospital in Wisconsin, scared I was going to threaten a comatose child in an adult’s body, and I don’t think I was about to for a while.

No matter how much I needed to take him down one day.

As much as I hated breaking the silence that had built and surrounded us comfortably, I had to, I was almost done with my burgers, and I was done with my fries, which I would swear I could see a tiny grimace in mourning about.

“So.”

His head turned slightly towards me. “So.”

I took another bite of my last burger, “When’d you pick it up?”

The comfortable silence turned deafening as I swallowed the bite. Welp.

“And why,” said the voice from my right, colder than it had when he arrived, “do you think I would divulge that information?”

I sighed and looked at him as well. He was staring right at my eyes, demanding an answer. We’ve already had our exchanges, and I sometimes wonder if I’d see something changed in there, but he wouldn’t be getting his answers from my eyes.

“I’m _asking_ because I’m trying to do small talk, which isn’t my best subject when I’m not shooting off at the mouth at a big baddie. Also I’m almost done with my burger and I need to fill the awkward silence after I finish somehow.”

“You’ve never been compelled to have small talk with me before, why should you start now.”

“I don’t know??” I said, looking away from his piercing gaze, off into the water, “To get my mind off the hell that was this week? To break the ice? Take your pick, man.”

“That was _part_ of this week,” he said, gaining a slightly wry tone to the icy edge.

“And?” I asked, looking back at his eyes, which seemed to have been mapping my side-profile, “It’s not completely out of ‘hell week’ sure-! But whenever you picked that up sure is. And I’m curious! Curiosity killed the wizard.”

It was quiet- a tense quiet, but not for the reasons I initially thought. I thought I was getting riled up because I was arguing with Marcone again, but I realized that was just his aura; he was tense about his answer, and I was picking it up in waves. I sent my sympathies to Molly.

His salt and peppered head turned away from me for once and stared at the island, and I sensed contempt and disgust as he said with all the clinical calmness of someone stating the weather, “It was a short while after it had been brought to my attention you had been assassinated.”

Well I had hit the ‘killed the wizard’ statement on the head hadn’t I? Go me.

“....Ah.”

“Ah.”

Another quiet. Birds sang distantly.

“You know. You could still-”

“Dresden, I’ve made my peace with my choice. Save it.”

Wow. Touchy.

“Can I speak,” I said drily.

Marcone flashed a raised eyebrow at me as he looked again at me in slight anticipation. “You may,” he said, a tad cautiously.

“Thanks, scumbag,” I said sarcastically, giving him a small grin, knowing I didn’t completely mean it that time around.

His eyes glinted in that hunter green I’d only seen once before with a tiny wistful smile before it was all gone, and the gentleman was back.

“Anyways,” I said, sensing that moment was gone, “I was _going_ to say you can still back down. You can put the coin down and just use that shade.”

“No can do, Mr. Dresden.”

“Why not?” I asked, genially. I didn’t know what kind of answer I’d be getting. It was a gamble with this man.

“I need to protect my city; even if you’re dead. As a vanilla mortal, I could only do so much against magical forces.”

“I’ll be here _long_ after you’re taken down, Marcone. No need to fret your pretty little head about that.”

A predatory tiger smile that made me think of one entertaining a mouse appeared on his face, “Are you so sure about that?”

“It takes two to tango,” I said, putting on my brave face and telling my hind-brain who yelled to back off to shut up and the Winter mantle to calm down, “and someone’s gotta lead the dance.”

The predatory smile slipped into one more confused, one I’d find on a happily confused Michael, or a fondly annoyed Murphy.

_Murphy…_

“I believe you’re using that phrase wrong.”

Oh. Right. Conversation.

“I’m tired, dammit, and you get what I mean,” I grumbled, feeling vaguely like Bones.

“As I’ve been acquainted with you for nigh on 15 years, yes, unfortunately I do understand.”

Shit has it really been that long? I know I had mentioned 13 years earlier but…. 15 years since I fought Victor Sells. 15 years since I met that man in a car. I sighed gently. “Hell’s star bells it’s really been 15 years.” Our relationship was a very upset sophomore. I stuffed the rest of my burger into my face to distract me.

That confused smile had quieted, but was still there as he said, “Not what I expected you to focus on.”

“Shush. Shut. Be quiet. Silence. Tongue, cease your movements. Let me reminisce, dammit.”

That garnered a chuff of air. “Alright alright.”

Then came the silence again. Once more comfortable and filled with the lightness of it all.

My relationship with this asshole was confusing.

During my reminiscing, I came across someone who was no longer there, someone who’d never be again.

“Oh.”

A questioning hum came from the man next to me.

“I’m truly sorry about Cu- er- Hendricks.” I said, catching myself, since I don’t think referring to his friend(?) as what I had always called him would fly right now, “He was a good guard dog- and from what I could see with Sigrun, a good boyfriend. That. That wasn’t…. I’dve saved him if I could’ve.”

“Of course you would have,” he said so softly I barely would’ve registered it had I not been listening for him. “And my own condolences for Miss Murphy. I know she was extremely close to you.”

The brief moment of quiet that came from us both wasn’t a storm or heavy, it was still light, but with threads of still open wounds of grief, although my own weighed heavy upon me like a house of bricks.

Then I broke it as I felt my chest start to spasm in a irritatingly familiar way. 

I thought again of anvils and blood that had been spilled without meaning to, and when I sneezed, it was loud enough that Marcone recoiled a smidgen, and an anvil began dropping from 30 or 40 stories, before turning to ectoplasm half way down.

That silence was vaguely hilarious as Marcone looked at me as if I were a new species of animal discovered.

“....My God what was that.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It sounded horrible as I wiped ectoplasm from my nose with a handkerchief in my duster’s pocket. It’s not every day you hear a mob boss sound like the epitome of confusion without meaning to.

“Conjuritid,” I wheezed, still sounding stuffy until I blew my nose a bit.

“Sounds contagious.”

“Onlee if you’re a wizard,” I said, finally getting the stuffy sounding words sounding normal again.

He stared at me.

“Ah- my bad- only if you’re a _mortal_ wizard. Without a Fallen to protect you from that.”

“Ah,” he said, eyeing me and then eyeing the street below with calculations running in his mind.

The silence was brief before it was broken by him this time. 

“Why an anvil?”

I chuckled. “An old joke from years ago- I used it to fend off Mavra and her cronies.”

“I was not aware Mavra had been here during the fight,” he said, sounding vaguely annoyed at the idea of not being alerted in the middle of a fight that Black Court was here.

“Yeah. Her and Drakul.”

“....Good God,” He muttered.

I wheezed a bit and choked out a drawn out, “Yeah. Not a good time right then.”

He responded with a chuckle of his own before we fell- once again, and not for the last time, as I’m sure you’re tired of this- into silence.

“If I may be honest,” Marcone said, as we watched the lake be fickle, “I’m surprised you haven’t drilled me about the coin.”

“Wha-? Dude, no, I get it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Then beg.” He started at that. “But no, seriously, I get the power thing, dude. I get that. Gard most likely took it to Monoc and they all started to tamper with it, since purple eyes aren’t the norm for nickleheads after all. And besides. Being a purely vanilla mortal in a god’s playing field? It’s simply put- shitty as fuck.”

“So he _can_ understand basic power politics,” he said with a lifeless tone but amused eyes, “Color me shocked.”

“Har har har hardy-har- John, I’m serious. I didn’t even tell Michael.”

That got me a couple moments of silence of consideration before I started again. 

“You’re probably aware of Lasciel, yeah?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “The Temptress of the 30.”

I looked at him full on, and saw a very distinct light in his eyes, one of knowledge, and understanding of said knowledge.

Oh yeah he knew.

“So how will you know if you’ve gone too far?”

Marcone and I stared at each other, the weight of our gazes on one another felt heavy, and staticky, if that was even a word.

“Well,” the man started quietly, tilting his head slightly at me, “you’ve always been my canary of sorts, shouldn’t stop that now.”

“Wh-? Huh?” I blundered elegantly.

All I received was an enigmatic smile.

“Can-? Ok. I’m not your little bird in some cage.”

“Of course not. Not my cage anyways.”

“Asshole.”

“Just saying it like it is, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snipped in reflex.

“You called me John,” he sniped back.

“...Touche.” 

I huffed a laugh at that, and turned to look at the lake again. Thinking. What the hell did that mean? Canary? Like the cat that ate the canary? What? I didn’t know. I’m just gonna ask him.

“But, seriously. I… I don’t get that reference. What do you mean by that?”

……..

“Marcone?” I looked to my right where he had been sitting, “you go-? _oh you motherfucker.”_

He had pulled a Batman.

Now I knew how Gordon felt.

“You like veils _waaaayyyy_ too much dude-” I grouched, standing up groaning at my soreness, and picking up my trash- “Find a different alternative to sneaking off!” I said- not quite a yell but loud enough to be heard from a couple rooftops over, but then definitely at more of a shout, “and I’m most _DEFINITELY not! Your! **CANARY!”**_

Silence greeted me.

I slumped a bit, and shook my head and headed for the fire escape I had climbed up in the first place. “Whatever that means, you cryptic asshole,” I whispered.

Somewhere off in the rooftops watching me climb down, I knew he was there, I knew he was watching. I felt it. But my suspicions were confirmed when I heard a musical voice, mixed with his, whisper to me on the wind- hardly there, I had to Listen- as I climbed.

_“I’ll be waiting for your challenge, little canary.”_

**Author's Note:**

> So uh.  
> Battle Ground huh?  
> Personally? I absolutely l o v e d it. The general feedback I've read from tumblr? Utter hate. Don't blame them! But it makes me sad that I can't gush to anyone about it. *I am staring at my dad and mom who are reading it* Let. Me. Talk. About. It.  
> Anyways, besides the point, lots of pausing in horror of the reading of the book for me to yell and scream (yes actual yelling and screaming my neighbors can attest). Loved it.


End file.
